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Monday, February 27, 2012

Master Words of Power

Tales and songs of Dzor Khorenin are
typically not the fare of many bards, though occasionally one hears
this tale. Bards regard the song about this supposed forefather of
their art with a range starting in ambivalence and ending in hatred.
Some consider his acts the most heinous of crimes committed while
others sorrow at the choice he had to make. Regardless of their
feeling, all agree that according to the tales, Dzor Khorenin justly
held a reputation of power, subtlety, and spoken presence so intense
that none could abide or deny his words. His charisma, once
unleashed, was undeniable.

All of the tales and songs
agree that lying idle one day, Dzor was surprised by Oolnydragen, the
Demon of Whispers. Now the slightest sound of Oolnydragen’s voice
was death, it was said, and it hated all other beings. Its utmost
delight was in the expression of surprise and fear adorning every
victim’s face as they heard its voice. Dzor knew these tales well,
for he had sung them myriad times to inspire fear in others,
mimicking the stealthy approach of Oolnydragen to strike terror in
children and adults alike. Presented by reality, Dzor acted in the
only way he instinctively could—he began to sing! Dzor raised his
voice in an attempt to drown out Oolnydragen’s whispers as they
burned into his mind. Its tentacles and oozing tendrils followed,
but as they whipped and whirled around him, Dzor ignored his dread
and spoke more powerfully the words, belted out the songs that made
him tower in greatness. With each word and song he felt safer, yet
at the same time felt a sharp pain as if something was literally torn
from him. In horror, he soon realized Oolnydragen was devouring his
every word, stripping away each song, forever ripping them from his
being! Trapped and refusing to accept such a death, he sung on,
feeding Oolnydragen every hateful word, epithet, destructive phrase,
and song of death he could produce. As they flowed from him, each
departed like a treasured friend, forever leaving, never to return.
Yet, no matter what hate-filled magik he spoke, Oolnydragen never
wavered in the devouring of his speech and seemed to eternally yearn
for more.

With no recourse left,
Dzor spoke the words of power that shaped him into the master he was,
letting each one go like an arrow at the heart of the Greater Demon.
Oolnydragen shivered with each word, each master’s utterance given
form in song, but Dzor only sorrowed as he watched the power slip
from him forever. In the end, exhausted, armed with only his last
word, Dzor spoke and waited, fatigue overcoming him. The silence
that fell after this last, final, cogent utterance was a burning
razor across his skin, and utterly drained, Dzor could only wait,
eyes closed, for his doom. In a length of time where legends melted
and time ground to dust, past when he could stand it no more, Dzor
opened his eyes and found Oolnydragen gone—blasted perhaps, or just
filled to the max of his gullet, drunk in Dzor’s power and mastery
over the word and song. Regardless, Dzor sorrowed mightily, for now
he was but a shadow of what he was, and words that had defined him
were gone—slipped away in the voracious appetite of the Greater
Demon. Thus, so went the words of power for bards from the world…